Dawn of the Dark Sun
by prettydaemon
Summary: Luna will do anything to escape this life- this life of torture, sorrow and loneliness. Even thrust herself into a different time. Even change the course of history. Even befriend her loved ones' murderer. But she had never planned to fall in love with him.
1. Time To Go

A/N – Complete rewrite of my old story on a new username. Enjoy.

The shrunken body's hollow breathing was the only sound that filled the Silence of its cell. It lay, aching and feeble, curled into a corner. It relished in the numbness of the Silence. The Silence would not harm her. It caressed her, comforted her in the knowledge that no one else was there with her. There was no threat. The Silence would only soothe.

A crash of metal against stone exploded into the room, and the Silence retreated.

The girl wildly scrabbled at the wall in an attempt to flee from the thunderous storm that erupted in her head at the sound. Her body wedged itself further into the corner, away from the source of the noise, and it began to shake from the merciless vibrations of the echo. A threat. Was the sound a threat? Had someone finally come to kill? A scared whimper escaped her swollen lips. The Silence was her friend. Where was her friend? It _hurt._ The noise was hurting her head.

Her quaking body began to calm as the sound was eventually swallowed by Silence. Her breathing steadied.

It was quite funny, really. People used to call her Loony at school.

Oh, if only they knew what insanity really was. The cold, shameless realism of true insanity.

Luna tilted her head upwards cautiously, azure gaze tired from hoping. Dreaming of an escape. She could not waste her energy on faith, anymore.

It was a metal cup of water. Thrown in by Lestrange, no doubt. It was up to the Death Eaters to keep their own torture toys alive, otherwise the Lord had no use for them. The term "Dark Lord" was long since gone. There was no Light opposition- only the one Lord. Not since Harry had died. Not since the Second Order had fallen. Her eyes flickered to the opposite wall- 37 lines, etched into the stone with her fingernails, stood solemnly. 37 days since the Second Order fell. It was the most terribly shameful day in her life. Far beyond the Battle of Hogwarts- the children, the incapable, were able to hide then. Let the strong ones fight. But afterwards? Who was left to stand but them?

Luna had watched them drop like flies.

A tear dripped from her hollowed cheek. Luna wiped it away absently.

37 days had passed. It was time to act.

The Final Act.

"Rosie." She whispered, throat scratchy. "Rosie-Rosie", she called into her empty cell. Rosalie had been in the next cell- small girl- wide, inquisitive green eyes, dark hair, olive skin. They had helped each other in the first few terrible nights. Luna crawled towards the other side of her sell and rested her head against the cool rock, panting quietly.

Her fingers stroked the small hole in the wall tenderly, awaiting the other girl to crawl to the whole and sing to her. Malfoy had taken Rosalie two weeks ago. "I'm leaving now, Rosie." She called again. Silence answered her.

Luna, as if satisfied by its response, nodded numbly.

_I do hope it goes to plan. _

Her hand slipped behind her head and her fingers clumsily unfastened the cool silver chain that hung loosely around her neck. A gift from the will of Albus Dumbledore.

_Luna,_

_It is my deepest fear that Harry is to be defeated in the battle that is inevitably drawing closer. I do not have complete faith in my theory that allows Harry to live- and I must be certain before I depart that he will survive. If all fails… Luna, if you have ever trusted me, you will take this time turner and befriend Tom Riddle in the year of 1942. There is no one, nor there ever shall be, anyone who could execute this final mission better than you. _

_Yours truly,_

_A. Dumbledore_

She had memorised it word by word. Kept it secret from everyone- even Neville. She had convinced herself that it was a prank at first- why would Dumbledore entrust her with such a colossal mission? With such an abstract mission? It wouldn't work. Of course it wouldn't.

But she couldn't go any longer ignoring the escape she had from this hell right at her fingertips. She would do anything to leave from this dark cell. Anything. Anything to escape from this life.

Even befriend her loved ones' murderer.

Even change the course of history.

Smiling dazedly, she twisted the time turner.


	2. Wrong

An agonizing, white hot pain clenched around Luna's head- God, _no,_ this was too painful. The noise was everywhere. It seemed to buzz madly- even the colours were too loud. The angry red was horrible. It zipped across the meekly blue sky like a wild wasp- the colour was everywhere. And descending upon her. It was a group! A swarm of terrible, angry red and they were going to-

"Enough."

And then it was Silence. Luna embraced it. Oh, sweet Silence. Her Protector had arrived. The red stopped advancing at a sudden halt. Her vision was steadily clearing. Gryffindor colours- loud, aggressive, terrible colours that would trap her and swallow her and-

She whimpered audibly.

It was then Luna realised she was curled up into a foetus position on the floor. On the_ grass._ The sweet, tender colour of green grass. She squinted. And a darker green- emerald green fabric lay near her face. That definitely wasn't hers. Luna wasn't in Slytherin.

_Oh._

_You're in a Quidditch game. _

Quidditch. It seemed so…so, not part of her world anymore. She could not play Quidditch, she was a prisoner._ Quidditch_ was for Before.

"Who are you?" It was the same voice speaking, but Luna could only appreciate the dark velvet of it after her initial shock had faded. This was a nice sound. It wasn't as nice as Silence- but it was good. Yes- nice.

"Who. Are. You?" the voice asked curtly, clearly becoming more impatient. Oh, it didn't sound nice now. It sounded mean. Interrogating. But the voice made an interesting inquiry- who was she now? She was Luna Lovegood. But who was she in 1942? Her vision had cleared completely by then, and slowly, she tilted her head upwards to the sound of the voice. A slender, shadowy figure loomed over her.

"L-" she began quietly, but stopped as another figure- this one, somehow, seemed more kind. More gentle.

"That's quite enough, Tom." He murmured in the other figure's ear, resting a palm lightly on the boy's shoulder. Luna supposed it was not intended for her to hear that, but after spending three weeks in silence, one found themselves extremely sensitive to sound.

This was a Quidditch game. Why was it silent?

Well, someone had just apparated into Hogwarts- that was impossible. That would stun the whole school into silence. Particularly if that someone looked like a rabid animal.

Her vision was clear, now. So many new colours. A ginger beard dangled above her. A lovely, warm ginger. Not angry red. Warm ginger. Luna hesitantly reached out her fingers to stroke it. A deep rumble of chuckling came from next to her. A gentle rumble. A nice sound. Nice, nice, nice. Oh, it was all nice now.

"That's my beard, dear." He said, piercing blue eyes twinkling with both mirth and confusion. Luna darted her gaze away. His eyes were too loud. Too much. Dumbledore frowned and stood, leaving the girl motionless on the ground.

The whole school held their breath.

He paused, as if about to say something, and shook his head. There was only one way someone could enter the school's grounds- something he did not wish to divulge to the rest of the staff.

"Lancaster." He addressed the Gryffindor seeker quietly. One girl, in the crowd that had swarmed around Luna, immediately straightened up, "Yes, Professor?" Dumbledore rubbed his temples for a moment, taking a second to contemplate. "Empty the stalls, the game will be postponed." Lancaster's jaw tightened, clearly displeased, but nodded.

"Riddle," he turned round to the boy. Tom's dark gaze tore itself away from the motionless girl and swerved to Dumbledore reluctantly. "Escort the girl to Madam Retani." He was, after all, Head Boy. Where was Dippet? It was part of the Headmaster's responsibility to the pastoral committee at Hogwarts to attend quidditch games.

Tom sneered inwardly. He did not want to touch the _thing._ It could barely articulate its own name. But he would not risk his façade. He crouched cautiously next to her. If the girl had noticed that he had approached her, she gave no sign of it. There was blood on her clothes, tears, burns, dirt. A refugee, perhaps? There were no wizarding wards currently, though. She remained impossibly still- even the movement of her chest was almost mobile from her hollow breaths. Unhealthy. Diseased. She disgusted him. She fascinated him.

"Who are you?" he murmured softly, so that it was inaudible to the crowd that surrounded them both. Her eyes flew open, and he recoiled slightly at the startling, manic blue of them. Insane. "Luna." She responded at the same volume. Her voice was like a breeze- quiet and gentle, but reassuring and persistent at the same time. He had gotten her to speak. Good, good- that would keep Dumbledore happy with him for a while. His eyes flickered away from Luna to check up on the other man. Too busy bossing around the school, the old fool.

"He's not a fool, you know."

Tom blinked. Had she just- but, no, his occlumency was excellent-

"I'm very good."

His jaw tightened, forcing up more shields to protect his mind. He could not interrogate her now. How was she doing this? No one was able to challenge the future Lord! No one! Dark eyes smouldering with fury, he leaned over her. "How are you doing that?" he hissed. She did not look at him. Why did she not look at him? What wasthe matter with this stranger? "Answe-"

"Is everything alright with her, Tom, dear?" a shrill, worried voice exclaimed from behind him. Madam Retani, it seemed, had found her own way to her newest patient. Tom drew back immediately, masking his frustration perfectly. "No. She's-" he stood up quickly, realising he had no way to finish his sentence.

"She's _wrong_." Tom muttered under his breath, before promptly turning on his heel and walking away, emerald green quidditch robes billowing behind him.


	3. In Need

A/N- So you can read this the way it looks best, my dearies, can you please press that "B" next to the "T" (text fonts) over there. Go further along, and press the ½ button. And lastly, press the "Dark" button on the end. Thanks, and enjoy!

Luna smiled softly, in a blissfully hazy state of half-sleep. Her back muscles almost ached with relief at resting on a mattress. She vaguely remembered Neville complaining to her about how hard they were. It felt as if she had never felt anything so comfortable in her life. In fact, this was as close to happiness as she had been for a long time.

How silly of her.

How silly of her to be happy over a bed when there was so much more to be sad about. How silly of her.

"Silly Loony." She paused. "Silly, silly Loony. Open your eyes, Silly Loony."

Her eyes grudgingly obeyed. A pristine white ceiling stared down at her. Luna squinted instantly, automatically doing a sweep for nargles. Oh, she hadn't seen a nargle in a while. How she would greet a nargle now- however pesky they seemed to be. She wasn't as silly as nargles, at the very least. Were nargles different in 1942? She frowned at the wall. Of course, they evolved very quickly. Merlin- would she even recognise them? This was a new world. Completely different, with no friends, no family, no home.

So, it's not like she had lost anything.

Maybe she didn't have to befriend Tom. Maybe she could just live out the remainder of her life here. Be normal in 1942.

Loathing herself as her thoughts betrayed her honest desire, she lifted the torso of her body swiftly.

Painlessly. Healed.

Healed? How long had she been unconscious? It would take days to heal all of her wounds. Biting her lip worriedly, Luna crossed her legs over, testing for pain. There was no ache. Yes- definitely _all _of her wounds had been healed. Her wide blue eyes turned to her unscathed hands- they were completely renewed by magic. She flexed her fingers experimentally, taking a second to marvel at the ease of the movement.

"Pleased?" Normally, any sound that broke her Silence would scare her. But not that sound. Never that sound. Tears stung in her eyes, threatening dangerously to spill. Feeling her throat closing up, Luna decided to just nod, keeping her gaze stubbornly on her hands. His eyes would still be too loud, no doubt.

"Good, good." Dumbledore murmured, though it was more as if he were talking to himself. It was good that the healing had worked. It was good she would communicate, at least at some basic level, with him. There was a possibility that he could find out who she was after all, then. He moved to the bottom of her bed and sat slowly, keeping a wary distance between them. Her feet were a few inches away from him- she wanted to draw back, but could not bring herself to. Albus Dumbledore (whether he himself knew it or not) would never hurt her.

"Are you quite able to speak, dear?" he asked gently, though his blue eyes were stern. It was his duty as a Professor to ensure she was no threat- of course, the girl looked like the victim of one, but it was better safe than sorry. No risks were to be taken concerning the security and protection of the children of Hogwarts.

Luna lifted her gaze carefully from her hands, cautious of his screaming eyes, and instead focused on the warm ginger of his beard.

"Yes, I can." She said softly, voice pealing in the empty Silence of the room like bells. Dumbledore tried his best to conceal his surprise. She sounded- well, it was hard to put his finger on, really. Other worldly, almost. Dazed- but not in the sense of a mentally unstable person. Dreamy, yet terrified. He had come across her type before.

"And will you tell me your name?" He asked softly, and Luna chewed on the inside of her cheek. He was speaking to her as if she were insane. Of course, she had realised a long time ago that she was no longer herself, but to have it so easily confirmed by someone she trusted so dearly- it still hurt. It still made her angry.

"No." she bit back, but the man stayed planted on the bed, unfazed by her sudden shift in mood. This wasn't _her_ Dumbledore. Her Dumbledore was dead. This one was not half the man she knew. No. Not her Dumbledore, at all.

This couldn't' be Dumbledore. He was dead! Dead, and she'd never see him again, and she'd cried and hugged Neville and watched his body being lowered into the grave and-

"Why are you crying, dear?"

Luna wiped away the tears hastily. "You're…" she choked out. The man frowned. Did she know him? He certainly did not remember her. There was a short silence while Luna watched his hands intently. "What's your name?" he repeated.

"Luna."

"And your last name, Luna?"

"Lovelar." She quickly invented, determined to keep somewhat of her name alive in even this false identity. Dumbledore nodded and Luna, ever so slowly, lifted her gaze to his.

It was so _loud._

She squinted uneasily, trying to banish the pain. She could do this. His eyes were the loudest colour she had seen, so if she defeated it, surely she would be able to look at all colours in the same way again? Surely. Dumbledore frowned again, bushy ginger eyebrows shielding his piercing gaze. Luna was not exactly _afraid_- more cautious.

"And why are you here, Miss Lovelar?" He leaned his elbow tiredly against the bars at the end of her bed, watching her warily. "Because," Luna bit her lip, surprised at the lack of blood on it that there usually was, before speaking again, "because I need help."

She was no threat, he could tell now. But she did not belong here, nor was she anywhere near sane.

Luna Lovelar needed Hogwarts.

A/N- Tom coming soon, be patient!


	4. Ready, Set-

There was so much food at the Staff Table. Golden, juicy meat. Hot, fluffy potatoes. Chunky, salty stew. The air was heavy with the thick steam of the food, and it made Luna's head dizzy. There was just so much of it. How could there be so much food in one place?

"_I know that transfer students are rare in Hogwarts…"_ Dippet rambled in the background, although Luna was barely aware of his speech to the school.

She swallowed dryly, her mouth salivating excessively as her blue eyes stared instead at the plate in front of her. Chicken- flesh, meat, sinking her teeth into that chicken would be heaven, paradise- there were also potatoes, crisp, honey-roasted, gorgeous and golden- and there were fresh vegetables- fresh, crunchy, delicious. Her tiny hands curled into fists, trying to compose herself- trying not to just attack the meal like a wild nargle. A lump rose in her throat. It all made her want to cry. There was so much food. Too much. She had been locked in a cell, just a few hours ago. Starvation thrived there; festered in people's minds, forced them into insanity. People had killed for no less than half a piece of bread- she had almost killed for a grape. A single, terrible, delightful grape.

"_Although this sorting ceremony will be brief and will perhaps call for a smaller celebration in Miss Lovelar's respectful House…" _

And here was this feast before her. There was just too much, and it hurt, it hurt her silly little weak heart-

It wasn't fair. Luna should have taken someone with her; at least, she should have tried to. Instead of leaving everyone behind. How could she be so selfish? But then, she had never thought of this as an escape. She had thought it would be the same dark, awful world in which she was living in moments before. Because anything different- anything better, in her mind, was impossible. Things didn't get better anymore. That's just the way it was. In her time, it was simply a matter of surviving the longest.

_No, you're selfish, silly Loony. You're just silly, selfish Loony. _

"Lovelar?!" Dippet called, turning his head about at the headmaster's podium. The current headmaster didn't know what was really happening with this girl; only that Dumbledore, the Transfiguration professor, had assured him that she was safe.. He saw no reason, then, as to why he should deny her the opportunity to enrol into Hogwarts- they were short two Ravenclaws and one Slytherin this year- which, for some reason, was delightful news for the girl. Of course this made no sense to Dippet, and he had simply assumed that Luna was eager to be sorted into one of the houses.

And that assumption was entirely and completely accurate. She wanted so much to be a Ravenclaw again. It would be like finally, after all this time, coming home.

Luna bit her lip silently in response to being called, suddenly torn between the want to be sorted into Ravenclaw as quickly as possible- because the colour of the tie really did make her eyes look rather lovely- and the overwhelming desire to devour all of the food at the staff table, where she was sitting. Madam Retani, well aware of Luna's malnutrition, had insisted to begin with simple foods. Dry bread. Water. Her new diet wasn't exactly Luna's cup of tea.

_Oh, tea. I can have tea again._

Tea with biscuits. And jam- sweet, sticky jam. And wouldn't it be marvellous?

"_Lovelar._" Dippet exasperated quietly, irritated that he had lost the girl's attention so quickly. "Do hurry up!" He hissed, jerking his head in the direction of the stool and the sorting hat. The curious eyes of Hogwarts students waited on.

Luna felt a surge of irritation rush through her- which was odd. Because Luna was not usually irritated. Her only real irritation was when nargles hid in her socks- and of course when Malfoy called Hermione a mudblood, that was a certain irritation of hers- but, at a professor?

It was just that Dippet was so small. And he thought that he had power over her. Which of course he didn't- of course he wouldn't have power over someone like her, someone who had fought ten times the strength of this tiny, puny man-

"Yes, professor." Luna replied, calling her train of thought to a halt, while smoothing down her plain black robe as she stood from her seat. A wave of disapproving murmurs rippled through the crowd at her appearance. The robe hung off her awkwardly, highlighting her skeletal figure. It was unsettling. What on earth had happened to this girl? And why had she come to Hogwarts? Was she dangerous? She looked awfully so, didn't she?

"A Lovegood." The sorting hat rumbled lowly, as soon as Dippet was out of earshot. "What _are _you-"

"Are there other Lovegoods here, Mr. Hat?" Luna whispered, the nickname for the ceremonial garment, which she had coined sometime around third year, escaping her lips. The leather line that resembled the sorting hat's mouth creased into a somewhat of a crooked, confused smile.

"The last of the Lovegoods left last year."

_No one._

"Thank you." She answered courteously after a brief moment of silence.

"Is that all?" The sorting hat grumbled, reverting back to his usual attitude.

"Oh, yes- _yes_, Mr. Hat." She nodded- it hardly occurred to her that she ought to speak to him about being in Ravenclaw. After all, she already _was_ in Ravenclaw, there would hardly be any point to-

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the far left erupted into applause.

The sorting hat was mumbling something encouraging about being cunning.

The head of Slytherin clapped her on the back.

Luna was still.


End file.
